


I wandered 'round your darkened land all night

by adrenalin211



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrenalin211/pseuds/adrenalin211
Summary: Mulder and Scully during the Covid-19 Pandemic.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 16
Kudos: 48





	I wandered 'round your darkened land all night

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the impromptu Spring 2020 Multifandom Quarantine Ficathon. The prompt is Mulder/Scully, Trail-Mix.  
> Thanks to Leigh57 for reading through this and thanks for Lowriseflare for reminding us all of how FUN this can be. And to Poeelektra for the enthusiasm regarding soapiness. The title is from a Mumford & Sons and Baaba Maal song called There Will Be Time.

Scully’s curled up on the right side of the sofa, trying to concentrate on an article published a few years ago in the New England Journal of Medicine. It’s hard to read over the sound of Mulder snacking on the three pound bag of trail mix he bought  _ ‘for quarantine,’ _ one handful after another. Chewing, then rustling through the bag for another few morsels. More chewing. 

The article explores the cost benefit analysis of using Hydroxychloroquine to treat patients with immune deficiencies when pre-existing heart conditions are also at play. She’s not feeling particularly energized by the evidence in the study, or all that interested in reading further, to be honest, but she’s convinced herself that she wants to get through it. For science. And for all of her family members texting her a list of endless medical queries. 

Maybe it’s Mulder’s incessant chewing that’s killing her focus. 

“Do you want to know a fun fact, Scully?” Mulder asks from the recliner next to her. He’s been scouring the internet, acquiring an impressive collection of useless information for what seems like months now, but is more likely mere weeks. If she were measuring the passage of time by the depletion in trail mix, then ⅔ of the bag long. His personal tactics at diversion are fine, really, but he has this unyielding propensity to say everything out loud. 

“What’s that, Mulder?” Scully attempts to sound intrigued.

“Well? Do you want to know a fun fact, or not?”

“Yes, that is what I was responding to.”

“Oh.” Mulder sounds relieved. He grabs another handful of peanuts and raisins. “Good.”

“Well?” she leads, studying his expression and suddenly less bothered. 

“Scully, did it occur to you that you might actually want this tidbit of information I have? To pocket away and dispense at a party someday, when this self-isolation order is but a blip in the memory of mankind?”

Scully smirks. “Mulder, we don’t really go to parties.” She knows her face gives her feigned annoyance away.

“Touche,” he says, but continues anyway. “Did you know that sloths…” he pauses. “As in the really slow mammal?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the sloth,” she states.

“I just meant… not  _ sleuth, _ like the smooth-perceptive detective type, like you and me once were, Scully.”

“Yes,” Scully says. “Since those two words are pronounced differently, I’ve miraculously been following from the start. The mammal...”

“Well, yes. Sloths can hold their breath underwater for longer than dolphins.” Mulder gives a long pause. Scully doesn’t know what kind of reaction he’s expecting.

“Really?” is all she can think to say. Scully raises her eyebrow.

“Yes,” he says. “They can slow down their own heart rate!” Mulder stares at her from across the coffee table; she assumes he’s trying to glean whether she’s interested or just messing with him. 

“Similar to how they slow down their…movement in general?” she asks.

Mulder ignores her jab at sloth sluggishness, shaking his head. “It’s incredible, Scully! They get their heart rate so slow that they can stay underwater for  _ forty _ minutes without coming up for air.”

As she considers this she starts to feel quite certain that Mulder seems dissatisfied with her lack of amazement. “And what about dolphins?” she wonders.

“Only ten minutes,” he says, and as soon as the sentence is out, he must know he’s captured her attention, because a grin spreads across his face. “Only ten minutes, Scully,” he repeats. “Compared to  _ forty _ .”

That is interesting; she’ll give him that. “Mulder, that may be the best fun fact of the past couple weeks.”

She can see the angle of his mouth tilt upward before he resets his sights on his afternoon snack. 

Scully goes back to her medical journal, sort of, and he to his… well, she really doesn’t know where he goes on that laptop.

They’re about to pass the two-week mark of Mulder self-isolating in their house.

Quarantine is the new norm. Scully’s unsure of just about everything, a state with which she is not comfortable. Or familiar.

———

He tries not to look at his watch at night.

Scully’s volunteer shifts at the hospital usually go until about 8:00 p.m, but lately she’s had to stay later to deal with…

Well.

He doesn’t like to end that sentence. Mulder is pretty sure that nobody likes the end of that sentence.

He lays out a bath towel next to the washing machine every night she decides to volunteer, every night she puts herself at risk, offering her medical expertise to the fight. (He wasn’t a fan of this at first. At first? No, he still isn’t a fan.) It’s now 10:49 and no word from her yet. 

Not that he checked his watch or anything.

He turns over in bed. And turns over again. A film of sweat forms across his back.

Scully always enters through the basement door, strips her scrubs off into the washing machine, and makes her way upstairs in just a towel and a layer of virus to enter into their shower.

Every time he hears the basement door screech open he starts to breathe normally. Tonight it’s not until 11:21.

His brain has been racing, every tick of the clock a reminder of the uncertainty of the forever they promised each other.

———

Scully steps in and lets the warm wash of the water rush over her, hoping the pressure of the shower stream can somehow massage away the kinks in her shoulders. She applies another layer of body wash to her loofa and rubs it into a lather. She presses the sponge against her skin and scrubs for a second time. 

She’s not  _ surprised _ when she hears Mulder enter the bathroom, but she’s immediately concerned.

“Scully,” he says. His voice sounds different. “Can I come in?”

She hesitates. Something’s off with him so she scrubs faster. “In just a second. I haven’t finished soaping up.”

Scully can feel her heartbeat accelerate when Mulder steps inside anyway. The worry he’s wearing is as palpable as the exhaustion and fear at the hospital today. “I can’t,” he says, stepping forward and pushing the curtain shut again. “I needed to see you.”

So much for safety protocols and proper sanitization; she did the best she could before he took matters into his own hands. 

_ If you get this virus, I might as well get it _ , he told her once.

Scully can see he’s already taking in the sight of her.

Soapy _. Safe.  _

As soon as that’s established he seems overcome with another need. With her eyes, she follows the path of water running down his chest, then lower. She sees him swelling and is struck with the need to reach out. She rubs suds along the length of him and watches Mulder’s gaze drop to what she’s doing. 

Mulder makes eye contact as she blinks away the water from her face. He puts his hands on her hips, and pushes his desire forward, poking her in the stomach.

“Scully?” he whispers. “Can I-“

She gazes into his intensity. The list of things within her control this week, no - this month _ , _ this  _ year  _ is becoming increasingly short. Mulder touches his thumb to her chin. By now she’s shaking, eager. Beads of water fall off his lips and she leans up to meet them.

“Yes,” is all she can manage. 

Before she breaks the kiss he’s angling her hips up, lifting her legs, and sliding forward. He lets out a hitched breath once he’s inside her and immediately thrusts deeper. Everything is slick. He’s rougher than usual, but a hand slides around her back and protects her from the cold tile behind them. She closes her eyes and listens. 

There’s the sound of the shower jets dousing them in warmth, the sexy hums from his mouth, the gentle slap of their wet, soapy bodies gliding together. Then, there’s Mulder’s whisper as he moves to kiss her neck.

“Nothing’s worth it if you can’t come home, Scully.”

——-

Scully’s hair is still shower-wet against his skin, but she’s breathing calmly, her body spooned up against his chest. He feels the pulse point on her wrist where he’s holding her hand. It’s a steady, strong beat.

“Mulder?” she whispers.

“What’s wrong?” He tightens his grip.

“Give me another fun fact.”

He exhales into her neck. “I don’t have one, Scully.” He pulls the blanket higher up as she settles further in.

“There’s got to be something, Mulder.” She sounds quieter, half asleep already. “I’m sure you can dream up something.”


End file.
